


Proud and Noble

by crearibir



Category: Disgaea (Games), Disgaea 4: A Promise Unforgotten
Genre: Gen, Suicidal Ideation, Violent Thoughts, raging misanthropy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:08:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28991949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crearibir/pseuds/crearibir
Summary: Nemo learns who the leader of the Hades Party is. He does not react particularly well.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 3





	Proud and Noble

The Corrupternment had a rebellion on their hands, and as much as Nemo loved to see how deep and black Hugo's depression would become if he continued their partnership, he couldn't bring himself to truly care.

He liked Hugo, he really, really did. The man just had a way to somehow bring a smile to Nemo's face whenever he visited, what with his long and deep sighs and boiling rage he tried so desperately to hide. Hugo was a failure of a leader; a useless demon who was helpless to do anything but follow Nemo's bidding to the letter. If Nemo said to "jump," he'd sigh and ask "How high?" If he said to do a little twirl and then grovel at his feet, Hugo's teeth would grit and he'd be dancing in a second, not even daring to disobey, already knowing the consequences if he suddenly found a spine. And he knew that! He knew he could do nothing but dangle on Nemo's strings and hope that he wouldn't cut them!

Big bad, ever serious, ever stoic Death King Hugo was just an endless source of entertainment—but for all Nemo knew, that was just a species-wide trait. Whatever idiot that was planning to overthrow him could be just the same, and Nemo would get to re-experience bringing the mightiest demon in the Netherworld under his thumb.

But for the moment, and if only because this sudden bout of disorder in the Netherworld might temporarily halt his plans, Nemo pretended that he was so _very_ invested in Hugo's struggle. He whispered his suggestions into his pointed ears, and sat back and watched as every single one of them failed to deter the rebels.

"I presume you've gotten another report about those rebels," Nemo said almost immediately after appearing in Hugo's office, his eyes sweeping the papers littering his desk. "I do hope you'll take care of them soon."

Hugo's mouth opened and then snapped shut, and Nemo could only imagine what biting remark had to be swallowed. "They are… posing difficulties."

"That's such a _nice_ way of saying that, President Hugo!" A grin split across his face, and Nemo could see those bleary eyes—which was an impressive thing to express, considering that Hugo's eyes were mostly pitch-black—narrow instinctively. "You _could_ just say that your lackeys are incompetent. I'd understand."

One of Hugo's hands tightened up into a fist, while another snatched a paper out from the mess on his desk. "What do you want?"

"Aw, come now, Hugo, can't I just drop by to see how my _dear_ business partner is holding up?" As soon as the words left his mouth, Hugo was staring up at him. "My dear pal?" Nemo tried, if only to see the twinges in his face. "Dear muchacho? Dear amigo?"

"We..." A faint brow twitched. "We don't have your next batch ready. Not yet."

"Oh, I'm not here for that," Nemo said with a wave, walking away from Hugo's desk to examine the rest of his office. As though he hadn't seen it a million times before. "I'm here to see how the rebel situation is."

"I told you already."

"You told me what I could surmise using _basic logic_ , President Hugo. I would prefer more details." Nemo stopped before a sword hanging on the wall. "I mean, surely you'd know who the leader of your plucky rebels is by now! Unless, y'know, someone hasn't _really_ been trying to stop the rebellion."

"I _am_ trying, Nemo!" Hugo shot up from his seat, slamming his hands onto his desk. Those green dots for eyes burned. "Do you think I want to be ousted _now_ of all times?!"

Nemo stared at the heaving Hugo, who stared back as though a sudden fire had possessed him. Well, that was new. He clicked his tongue and whistled, and that little action made Hugo's eyes widen and some of that vigor vanish. "Great! I'm glad you're so passionate about this! Now, tell me, any new information about our rebels? Oh, aside from your son being one now, of course."

Hugo gaped for a moment, and for that length of time Nemo was glad that rebels and desperate presidents of Netherworlds existed. "I—" he began, before messily rifling through his papers. "We—we discovered who the leader of the rebels is."

"The leader, huh," Nemo said under his breath as his gaze moved away from Hugo and to the sword on his wall. In all likelihood, it belonged to a Corrupternment demon—one that held a special title and carried themselves with pride, yet did absolutely nothing to stop humanity's descent into filth and evil. How pitiful. He wished he could be that self-important.

He ran a finger against the edge of the blade, and then without a care for what its owner or Hugo might think, removed it from its holster against the wall.

"… And, according to our informant's reports, the leader of the Hades Party is the former Tyrant Valvatorez."

The room felt suddenly very enclosing and tight. The name left Hugo's lips and then rattled about in Nemo's head, mockingly. Tyrant Valvatorez. _Tyrant Valvatorez..._

"Hmm, come again, Hugo?" Nemo asked in a too light voice.

"Tyrant Valvatorez." Hugo sighed. "He was a powerful demon—but that was many, many years ago. I had heard that he had fallen to Hades and taken up Prinny instructing, but—"

"Be quiet."

To his credit, Hugo did immediately fall silent. If his long dead blood wasn't boiling, Nemo might have mentally praised the man for it.

"Tyrant Valvatorez is our rebel leader."

"Yes, he—"

_"I said be quiet."_

And this time, Hugo's silence was more permanent. Nemo heard a soft thunk as he slid back into his chair, and suddenly he was left with an all too quiet room and a name echoing about it. _Tyrant Valvatorez._

"Hugo, I'm going to be honest with you. I didn't care whether or not those rebels took your head." He finally turned to face Hugo, a hand tightening on the edge of the sword he held onto. "What's one worthless president over another, I thought. But see, President Hugo, that's changed now. I thought that before I knew who our daring and brave rebel leader was. But now I do know. I know very well the man that's going to storm in here and try to kill you.

"So, President Hugo, what I'm asking you to do is to kill Valvatorez." Hugo's eyes shrunk. Nemo wasn't aware they could do that before. "I want you to kill the tyrant—or else."

"Or..." He could hear Hugo swallow. He could hear him oh so carefully considering the next words he was going to say. "Or else what?"

"Or else I'll personally see to it that every last demon in the Netherworld starves!" Nemo replied with no small amount of forced cheer. "See, see, _see,_ you're _reasonable!_ You very eagerly sacrificed your precious dignity and pride to make sure all your precious subjects wouldn't _die!"_ An exaggerated sigh came out of him. "Oh, but Valvatorez? Very _proud_ , very _noble_ Valvatorez? He wouldn't do that. He would never _dare_ compromise with a raving lunatic to save the Netherworld. So once he comes into power, I'll offer my services to him, he'll very enthusiastically decline," his grip on the blade tightened, "and then all the demons will starve and die. It's quite simple, really.

"So be a good demon and make sure Valvatorez dies screaming, will you?"

Hugo stared. Before Nemo's suddenly very short patience ran out, he nodded and again undertook the task of riffling through the papers on his desk. "I will..." But there it was—the _hesitance!_ "I will do as you say."

"There's a good boy." The sword fell to the ground with a clatter. "I'll be back again soon. For the demon cells. I do hope you'll be able to deliver."

Before he vanished from Hugo's office, he became suddenly aware of the blood slowly dripping from his hand.

* * *

Nemo could not forget the little things of Artina's untimely demise.

He wasn't even there to see it—he didn't even get to lay eyes on the face of the man who saw fit to slaughter the only good human in their whole vile race. Oh, but everything else? He remembered it all too well.

He could remember the weather that day—cloudy, always cloudy, like even Mother Nature knew of what crime would be performed. He could remember when a guard had marched to his cell, stopped, and said too quietly and pitifully for a monster, "the nun is dead." But most of all, he could remember the name that the demons his once comrades had begun to use in their petty war had whispered. He could remember the accusations flung at Artina after her death, that aside from being a traitor she had begun to personally cavort with demons.

Nemo remembered the name Tyrant Valvatorez. He knew very well what the man did to stop Artina's murder.

And that was nothing. He did _nothing._ The _very_ proud and _very_ noble Valvatorez that apparently even Hugo thought so highly of just sat and watched as a divine being like Artina was _murdered_. Then he had the nerve—the absolute _nerve!_ —to quietly retreat to Hades and wash his hands of the whole situation! As though he couldn't have done anything to prevent it!

Demons were vile hypocrites. They prided themselves so much on their ability to strike fear into humans—yet they had somehow managed to fail so completely and utterly that they would all be starving to death without him. But somehow, out of their whole idiotic, useless species, Valvatorez somehow managed to be the cracked crown jewel of them all.

If it wasn't disgusting, Nemo would almost be impressed.

* * *

Hugo had failed. Really, Nemo wasn't terribly surprised that the almighty Death King Hugo couldn't stand a chance against two demons that should have been severely weakened, a failed prototype of Des X, a bratty and delusional girl, and his own weak and cowardly son. A mouse could have snuck into his office and he would have thrown himself on his tiny little sword. That's what he liked so much about Hugo and his type of misery!

But that was over now. He had been defeated and chose to unveil his true master—like any good, defeated villain would, no matter how bothersome it was or how pathetic it looked.

And in doing so, he gave Nemo the ever esteemed honor of standing before Tyrant Valvatorez. Tyrant Valvatorez who looked… smaller and less grand that he had imagined.

"Shouldn't you introduce yourself first, Valvatorez?"

Valvatorez was an open book. His eyes widened and he took a step or two away from the wildly grinning Nemo, obviously shocked that some random and obviously ill-intentioned human knew his name. Of course, if the Blood-Soaked King of Fear deigned to use his shriveled up little brain for a moment, he could easily chalk it up to the dear old puppet king Hugo blabbing.

But that was expecting too much from a man that wanted to _reform_ humanity! Hah, what a joke. Reforming and re-educating an unrepentant species that destroyed everything they touched. It was a delusional idiot’s idealistic dream.

Delusional idiot was hardly the most insulting thing he could say about Valvatorez though. If anything, that was a title more deserving for the four he had managed to drag with him to the Blight House. 

“This is the ruler of the Human World,” Hugo had said, his voice as dead as ever, “who monopolizes the fear energy and controls the Netherworld.”

“The ruler of the Human World?” Genjuro’s daughter—Fuka, he thinks her name was—shuddered and her face twisted in disgust. “Ewww! I’ve never seen this guy before in my life!”

What intellect Genjuro had in him seemed to skip a generation.

“I’ve never heard of a ruler of the Human World before!” Emizel then exclaimed, half to himself, half to the room as a whole after the Kazamatsuri girl had been scolded for her lack of common sense by Valvatorez’s pet dog.

Nemo wished he could imply something vile about his being a disappointment to his father, but what harm was it being the disgraceful son of a disgraceful ruler? It was like being the maggot offspring from a grotesque fly.

Not that he had any room to talk, being the ruler of a land infested with humanity. Too much like being the king of a pile of cockroaches for his liking.

The Des X prototype was so immature, hanging at her creator’s daughter’s side the whole time. She had thought him to be “final-boss like,” whatever that meant, and with every other word reminded him to be grateful Des X wasn’t nearly as annoying.

Then there was the dog… Fenrich. Valvatorez’s man-servant. Who gladly yipped and yapped and verbally cut down Valvatorez’s precious comrades whenever he got the chance. He had to thank him for that at some point, saving him the hassle of doing the insulting.

He would then have to _gently_ remind him of how little he knew about Nemo and how much of a fool he was for allying himself with Tyrant Valvatorez.

Reforming humans. The idea had had time to settle and sink into his head and he still couldn’t comprehend the levels of delusional and egotistical Valvatorez had to be to consider that.

“Okay, then come to the Human World,” Nemo had said after Valvatorez stubbornly clung to that foolish notion. “I’ll try to break things down for you there so that you’ll finally understand…

“That you’ll never,” and without even thinking to do it, a manic grin had formed on Nemo’s face, “defeat me.”

He had laughed and left Valvatorez shouting some nonsense where he had once stood. Reforming humans! Once Valvatorez had witnessed the extent to which the Human World had sunk—and had seen just how replaceable all demons were—then he’d understand.

He’d understand just how it felt to be _useless!_

* * *

Nemo had called Valvatorez a delusional idiot, but then he had not yet been made aware of how true the idiot part was.

“It’s all thanks to… Sardines!”

Sardines. Tyrant Valvatorez believed his power came from a fish. He knew he was bent and twisted but at least he didn’t believe his influence was actually derived from his breakfast! Not that he needed to partake in any kind of meal anymore.

Fenrich had provided a more substantial reason as to why their little ragtag band was able to defeat the demon clones. It seemed that for every demented thing that left Valvatorez’s mouth, a more rational version would be quickly constructed by his manservant. How cute.

Valvatorez’s endless drivel on how demons were the “messengers of darkness” and meant to “admonish humans” was less so. Admonishing humans? _Valvatorez?_ Hah. 

It made him sick. It twisted his insides and made the ever-present, ever-boiling fury in the pit of his stomach burn a little hotter. Valvatorez was quick and eager to walk away from the one situation he was needed in the most—all because his pride was bruised. Bruised by his murdering Artina!

He could feel his smile tightening as his thoughts swung rapidly from one image to the next. The smiling face of Artina. That constantly smug, self-satisfied expression on Valvatorez’s face. As though he were innocent.

It gave him no small amount of joy to see it wiped away when he was separated from his precious “comrades.”

A battle suit had managed to creep up on Valvatorez, and although it was easily dispatched by one swing of his sword, what Valvatorez hadn’t expected was for its core to flash and then an explosion to consume him. Everything would have been so much easier if the flames had killed Valvatorez then and there, but instead Nemo caught a glimpse of that cape as he descended into the lower levels of Genjuro’s labs. Fenrich noticed his master’s sudden disappearing act first, and Nemo left to go see how his guest was to the sound of his concerned yells.

Valvatorez was, of course, perfectly fine.

“I’m glad to see an explosion or two doesn’t phase you, Valvatorez,” Nemo said as cheerily as ever, “I would hate for you to die so soon.”

“Nemo,” Valvatorez groaned in response as he batted down a few stray embers on his clothes.

“I find it hard to believe that sardines let you take an explosion to the face,” especially when a less dramatic wound had killed _her_ , “but what do I know?”

Valvatorez didn’t dignify that with a response. Or perhaps he didn’t because he was too busy pushing himself off the ground.

“I don’t have time for you to taunt and monologue, Nemo!” He declared in that ever bold voice, wincing as he threw his cape open. “I must return to—”

“Do you really, though? Do you think your comrades are a bunch of infants?” With how they toddled after him and were blind to his immeasurable flaws that tumbled out of him with every word, they might as well be. But Nemo kept that thought to himself. “They’ll be _fine!_ They’ve _been_ fine!”

Valvatorez stared. It was a rather fearless stare, so very unlike Hugo’s tired and weary one. 

A stare that he cut short when he reached behind Valvatorez and flipped his cape over his head.

Valvatorez stood there for a moment, as though unaware of what exactly Nemo had done. Then, muffled slightly by the cape, he let out a very loud and very indignant squawk.

“Gah! Who turned out the lights?!” His gloved hands scrabbled at the front of his face, as though pawing at his cape would suddenly vanish it from his face.

Nemo watched the sight Valvatorez made, failing to keep his lips from twitching and short bursts of laughter from escaping him. And then he decided that Valvatorez should hear his mockery more directly and let out a long, almost manic cackle.

He was still laughing when Valvatorez managed to return his cape to its previous position, and fix a glare upon Nemo.

“What was that about?!” He asked as he clenched a fist. “I thought you would at least be above such childish things!”

“I don’t know, Tyrant Valvatorez, I thought the King of Carnage and Atrocity would be able to tell when he had his cape over his face. I guess we all just have to be disappointed sometimes.”

Valvatorez bared his teeth. The same hand that he had turned into a fist came up to massage his temples. “Judge Nemo…”

“Hmm?”

“I would much rather you tell me directly what your problem is rather than this,” he swept his arm, as though he could encompass all of Genjuro’s lab and the Netherworld in the motion, “childish behavior.”

Nemo’s smile tightened. “ _Really._ ”

“Really!” Valvatorez repeated, grabbing his cape again. “Surely a man who can’t ‘waste time or money’ has more important things to do than,” he shook the living fabric, “this!”

“Really.”

“Yes, really!”

It was funny. Valvatorez kept brushing his fingers across Pandora’s Box, tempting it to open and all its horrors to spill out. All just to catch a glimpse of poor, lonely Hope.

“You know, Valvatorez,” he began, biting back the urge to satiate Valvatorez’s curiosity, “you could just say I’m being annoying. It _really_ won’t hurt my feelings.”

Valvatorez glared, his face set, and Nemo decided that likening the former tyrant to a naive, silly girl was perhaps being cruel. To the naive, silly girl, who had been kept in the dark by thoughtless superiors. No, the vampire that clung to his ideals yet abandoned them all so the only good thing in the whole human race could die was more like a bull. A stupid bull that charged blindly at whatever, unheeding and uncaring of the consequences.

“I’m not quite sure anything would hurt your feelings,” Valvatorez said, his eyes closing. What on earth could he be thinking of? Fuka thinking calling him old was an insult? Fenrich comparing him to the criminals he would soon be wiping out? That little pervert comment he himself had added to the pile?

“Oooh, nice! Glad to see you’re finally catching on!”

“Not unless it’s…” Valvatorez murmured under his breath, and Nemo felt like the wound on his hand would reopen.

“... Unless it’s what? What is it, Valvatorez? What gets me so riled up, Valvatorez?”

And there the bull went, entranced by the matador’s cape. “Why, obviously, the very reason demons exist!” The anger had melted from his voice, and he suddenly sounded like Genjuro did whenever he had made a new breakthrough in Des X’s creation. “That’s what gets you upset!”

Idiot. Valvatorez was an idiot.

“You can’t control demons—not entirely! You can starve them but you can’t control them! And that enrages—”

“Does it now?” Nemo asked to nothing in particular. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton and his voice was a low hush.

“I—yes? Yes. Yes!” Whatever confusion may have taken hold of him was shaken off as easily as his guilt. Nemo was struck by the sudden urge to put his hands around his throat and strangle out that loathsome self-confidence Valvatorez was always possessed with.

“Now, I’ll be getting back to my comrades.” Another pat-down of his clothes, done perfunctorily and perhaps also to make a point, and Valvatorez was walking away. “But! Know this!” Valvatorez stopped and spun about on his heel to face Nemo again, those red slits for eyes gleaming. “You will never hold a sliver of power over the Netherworld again!”

“How sad,” Nemo began. The sound of his voice had somehow managed to not make Valvatorez’s vigor melt away. If anything that self-righteous fury seemed to shine brighter. “I won’t be ruling the Netherworld anymore. I’m going to miss it, y’know? Making demons bend to my will, depressing Hugo with every visit, _making sure worthless demons high on their own fumes don’t kill people.”_

“ _What?_ What are you talking about?”

Nemo’s smile felt like lead. A thumb wiped across his hand, and he was surprised it didn’t come away with blood. “You really will never get it, will you?”

* * *

Des X had failed. Genjuro had failed. 

He had expected Genjuro to try and squirm away at the last second—the man even had the audacity to openly acknowledge it, and Nemo had to commend him for that and laugh—but Des X? The demon that was supposed to be a mindless weapon? Her sudden and violent streak of disobedience was a snag he couldn’t have foreseen.

And then the nerve of the Kazamatsuris to play pretend! To act as though they were a happy family deep-down when he knew! He knew how brutally Des X had killed the Kazamatsuri girl, how her eyes glinted when she tore apart the body of her hated rival. And he knew how lackadaisical, how casually and carelessly Genjuro had tossed aside the fact that his only daughter was dead!

They were no family. They were a writhing pack of vile insects, hoping that if they deluded themselves a little longer they could find whatever a human would call happiness. What a farce!

He thought of the soldier that had barked out his sentence, and the executions that had been added on as an afterthought. Killed for the crime of association. The image and the tearful shouts of a younger, still naïve soldier filled his head 

Seeing their happiness turn into despair when he announced the moon’s inevitable destruction could only do so much to lighten his mood. Though, he had to admit, even in the confines of his own head, that seeing Valvatorez and his man-servant be brought to panic was… satisfying.

It was only a sliver of the panic and despair that was Artina’s last moments, but it was a start.

“Don’t you have a plan to survive your own disaster?” Valvatorez had asked of him.

“I don’t know. I might or I might not,” Nemo had replied.

He could only wonder why Valvatorez took a sudden interest in whether or not Nemo lived through his own apocalypse. Perhaps if Valvatorez had decided, in order to atone for his _unforgivable_ sin of killing Artina, to destroy all of humanity, he would want to remain after the fact. Nemo lacked such reservations. It would be pointless to linger about once his purpose had been fulfilled, to return to that drab, miserable life he led before he discovered his true reason for existing.

Valvatorez and his four lackeys marched up to the moon. They flailed about, hopping from one wild plan to the next, hoping wherever they landed next would be where they could dismantle his plan once and for all. Valvatorez’s lackeys crowed and praised his every breath and it was all starting to get predictable.

They acted as though he, by the mere virtue of thinking himself just and noble, would end up the victor. They were idiots for indulging in that fantasy. The only path any moron like Valvatorez could walk was one towards death or eternal bitterness.

Ah, but at least it would all end soon. Their last triumphant march would be towards the reactor core, where without even knowing it, they would cause their precious moon to tumble out of the sky. What a show he would be in for tonight!

And then… _and then…_

* * *

They said her name. They said her name. They dared to let Artina’s holy, divine name pass through their putrid lips!

She had been a saint. A goddess descended onto the filthy Earth! And they all thought her name was something to be said so casually by the race that killed her and the ones that stood by and just let it happen!

And Valvatorez! Valvatorez dared to exclaim it, as though he had any right to! He thought he could say it painfully, mournfully, somberly? As though he hadn’t carelessly tossed her life away! As though he hadn’t, for all intents and purposes, let the blade drive through her body!

It was sick! _Sick!_ His chest felt tight and his lungs burned as he sat and despised the whole of the Hades Party.

He could see it now, clear as day. Valvatorez—always coy, always hypocritical, always sly and cunning and deceitful—telling his henchmen through crocodile tears of Artina. How he had tried so desperately to save her, how he hadn’t let her die and used her death to forever prop up his own ego! 

Then, wiping the tears away, he would tell them of the horrible, vindictive Judge Nemo, and how he was saved by Artina. How saving his miserable life led to her death. Yes, that was what happened! Valvatorez put his followers up to this, hoping he could sway Nemo’s heart and still his hand.

What a failure that had been, then! He was only angrier! With every passing thought he could hear his dead heart pound and his head throb with how much he hated and hated! 

He’d kill them all for this. He’d make sure to watch as that total despair finally consumed them, and they understood what it was like for Artina—for him. They'd gargle on their blood, try desperately to plug up their wounds, beg and plead and scream to whatever uncaring deity they believed in to save them. And when the light went out in Valvatorez’s eyes, Nemo would enjoy every last second. The sight would be burned into his memory before they both were in the same place any and all murderers of Artina should go to.

* * *

Valvatorez was here. All the Hades Party was here. He could see flashes of pink through the black and purple creeping into his eyelids. She—she was—

Not here. Not here at all. Lies. They were all lying. She’d be ashamed of him.

Yes. Of course! How could Artina be with a band of worthless demons and humans? How could she have become an angel when she was denied any divine help when she needed it the most? Heaven would just as soon toss her back into the fires of the Human World than extend a helping hand.

Good, purred the darkness around him.

His head was still throbbing. Everything felt like it was burning now. Every time he closed his eyes to try and find some peace from the screaming symphony of his own voice, he would be back in Rekidona. Back in Gustark’s dungeons. Cradling Artina’s bloodied body. Seeing pain pain pain pain pain and pain all over again.

The world is ending, said a voice that was just like his yet—yet it wasn’t his. Do not struggle. God is acting as intended.

God. The self-righteous, arrogant, cold-hearted bas—

A new wave of pain ripped through him, and for a horrible moment Nemo suddenly became aware of the waves of black and red demons that rose from the ground. Everything hurt—he wanted it to stop, no, no, he didn’t know anything else about Rekidona’s plans—hadn’t they done enough? No, he should be dead. _He should be dead._ He wished he was dead. He could feel blood seep from his hand again.

The flashes of pink went by again. That condescending voice of the manservant broke through the cotton in his head.

Couldn’t be her. She wouldn’t be with Valvatorez. He killed her. He— _they_ —he killed her. So why—?

The flashes of pink became solid. And then there were eyes glistening with tears looking up at him, and a pained, sorrowful expression that had twisted and ruined a beautiful face.

Artina was looking up at him.

Artina.

He should be dead, he should be dead, he should be dead.

“… Nemo! Wait! Are you running away?!"

He would be dead.

* * *

Valvatorez extended a hand. Again, his face was set. The stubborn bull aspect had shown itself again.

Next to him stood Artina, the sadness and pain replaced by that intent look. The same one she wore when she declared that she would treat any soldier who came into her clinic, no matter their country of origin.

They meant it. She meant it, despite all the pain he had dealt in her name. He meant it, despite all the pain he meant specifically for him.

Nemo’s hand trembled as he took the gloved one offered to him. Artina's smile was dazzling and radiant, even now tempered by the weight of her mission. Valvatorez's smile, flashed to him momentarily as his grip tightened, was strange and indecipherable and… friendly? Friendly? Who flashed friendly smiles to Judge Nemo?

Yet Valvatorez kept on smiling. The only break in that shining, confident exterior was a sudden determined glint in his eye as he hauled Nemo up from the ground. As though he were one of those comrades he treasured so much.

He thought of hopeful new recruits and long-dead men under his command and tried all he could to not shatter again.

* * *

Prinny-hood felt like Nemo was thrust back into being a private; doing menial tasks that the higher-ups couldn’t be bothered with. The comparison stung, reminded him of days he wanted back so badly yet rejected so violently, but it always would. He might as well get used to its pain now rather than later.

Valvatorez had given all of the new batch a mop and a bucket, and informed them that their current task would be cleaning the toilets. He had said it with all the bravado in the world, and treated it with the same brevity that one would treat a grand task such as saving the world with.

Maybe to Valvatorez, the savior of the world that still operated as a Prinny instructor, it was worthy of the same respect.

The whirlwind of events that was Nemo’s final days as a spirit still baffled him every time he tried to comprehend it. The first was Artina’s constant presence, and the complete shame that he had brought on himself by being blind to her constant pleas. The second was Fear the Great, and his being possessed by it. The third was Valvatorez. Valvatorez deciding that the only proper thing to do with a rotten soul such as him was to turn him into a Prinny.

Nemo clumsily thrust the mop into his bucket, his body still new and unwieldy. 

It wasn’t an act of kindness, done because Valvatorez had felt bad. He would never dare turn his rightful—if still too light—punishment into some grand charitable move. But…

He jabbed the mop at the dirty floor, almost in awe at how filthy demons could get a restroom in one day.

But it felt like it. It felt too kind and undeserving to be real. It felt like he was in some strange dream where everyone was open-hearted and forgiving and Artina’s constant mercy for him wasn’t an outlier. He didn’t deserve it. He should have faded into nothingness and his life should have ended there.

Yet here he was. Saved by Artina yet again.

Nemo paused in his steady scrubbing of the floor, and shakily laughed. Saved by Valvatorez. The man he loathed so much because of what he reminded him of, what he had done, what _both_ of them had done.

Some urge to laugh and mock Valvatorez for his stupidity rose up in him. What kind of idealistic idiot decided to take in the soul of a man who once would have gladly murdered him—might _still_ gladly murder him! The urge came and rose, and Nemo quashed it as best he could.

Not now, he decided, not now.

His peg-legs trod lightly across the now very wet floor. Artina's shining eyes and Valvatorez's ever-determined expression flashed in his mind's eye.

Maybe not ever again.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, thanks for making it to the end of what I did not think would be 5,000+ words but oops here we are. Anyway, I hope you enjoy my attempt to look at Valvatorez and Nemo's dynamic because it's one of the smaller things in D4 but it's so underappreciated. I love them so much.
> 
> I would also rant about my intentions with this fanfic and some of the stuff Nemo dances around in his narration but I don't want this to also be a screed so interpret some of his statements however you will.
> 
> (Also yes some sections does just have dialogue straight from the game. Writing Nemo's internal reactions to it was fun.)


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